


Tomorrow when we are not together

by Art_is_not_what_I_create



Series: Why do you expect me to have a name for everything here [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art_is_not_what_I_create/pseuds/Art_is_not_what_I_create
Summary: He brought his hand to Fingon's cheek, trying to wipe the wet trails from his skin.  "Finno," he said again. "What troubles you?""You ought not to worry." Fingon closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "For my worries are selfish, and I should forget them.""And I worry still. Would it not put both of our minds at ease? Me hearing it, you speaking it aloud?""I am afraid hearing it would take the ease away from you, and I am too scared to speak." Fingon smiled bitterly. "Do you know how much I love you?"Maedhros smiled as well. "More than I could ever imagine," he said. "Far too much to keep you safe."...Or a story of two elves, making mistakes, changing, trying, days before everything went wrong, days in which everything went wrong, days after everything went wrong.And mostly, of being completely and utterly in love.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Why do you expect me to have a name for everything here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723723
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, 
> 
> This is basically me trying to make my English believable, and failing at it. It happens, I guess. At least I can be sure it is not the worst written story on Ao3, oh boi, what have my eyes seen there already. It may be second worst written story on Ao3, why not.
> 
> That's not the point though, I just wanted to warn you. So it is a bit angsty, I guess. But as it is in the tags, I promise there will be fluff as well. I think. More angst probably. I mean, it's Russingon, what did you expect?
> 
> The narrative is non-linear because I said so, so if something really doesn't make sense it would be nice if someone let me know. I'm just saying. Oh and I have no idea where to place comma. Please kill me.
> 
> Also I can't promise I won't delate it when I realize it is trash, because I actually am a piece of trash.
> 
> Oh, and, I was *cough* kind of *cough, cough* inspired by many songs or other works in this fandom, please forgive me. I own nothing but that is probably obvious.
> 
> I don't think anyone actually reads this notes.

He woke up in darkness. It did not surprise him, from time to time they left him in a room with excactly no light. His head was aching, his body did as well.

He felt something move, next to him. 'No, not again,' he could only think when he struggled in his bonds. He was at peace, in the darkness, he could rest inside of the madness that became of his mind.

As he thought of what was going to happen next, he trashed more violently. He did not expect the bonds to actually break, but his hands were free.

...

_At the same hands he stared on one of his family dinners, back in Tirion. Well, not completely family dinners. On that moment Maglor has just been put to bed, and Celegorm put to sleep long hours before. His mother just mentioned his half uncle's wife. And their child. Unborn, at the time._

_He didn't understand his father's reaction. Feänor froze in his place, to clench his hands in fists after a moment. "What a shame," he said. "That the child is doomed to be as brainless and ignorant as their father."_

_When Maedhros dared to peek a look at her, his mother was already slightly irritated. "And yet, it shall most likely be as wise and beautiful," she said._

_"If you think about Indis' son that well, maybe you should have married that bastard instead, though you would need to loose all your mind to do that."_

_"Feänáro!" She scolded him. "It is not fair of you. You insult my friend and you insult my love for you as well."_

_"I did not insult her, simply her taste in men," he reached for her hand under a table, it almost went unnoticed by Maedhros. "I am sorry. I love you."_

_She took it and locked their fingers together. "How was your work today?" She changed the subject_ *

_"Well enough," Feanor replied. "I would enjoy it way more if I had you there by mi side."_

_Seeing as the tension in their dining room dissappeared, Maedhros looked up again. His mother was smiling, but her eyes betrayed just how tired she truly was. He was not surprised, even he himself wished sometimes for the void itself to take him, only to avoid the hell little Celegorm was giving them. When he heard he was going to have another sibling, he thought they would be more like Maglor. He had no clue why Eru would give his, at the time, youngest brother so much energy._

...

Someone reached for his hands and wrapped their fingers around his wrists. No, not again.

Everything, he would give everything, just not again. He knew well what would come after.

They won. Alright, they won, they broke him, they took everything from him, there was nothing left... and Finno, oh Finno. The only mercy of what was happening was not being forced to watch his body, lying on the ground, already broken by Morgoth's hands, his tortures, his...

They took everything, and he just wanted it all to end. If he killed, if he even tried to kill, some of them, maybe they would finally take the last thing away from him. His life. There surely were no worse things in this world than what he already went through.

...

_When the child was born, his grandfather insisted on the whole family of Feänor to come._

_The celebration was happening at Finwë's house, which was at the moment mostly covered in blue and gold. Fingolfin and Anairë's colors. When they stepped through the door, he felt many eyes watching him. He was not surprised, he knew both his height and looks were easy to catch in a crowd, also he knew that many had high expectations of him. Feänor's eldest, is he going to live up to what his father achieved already?_

_But he did not wish to dwell on that matter, not now, not ever. He followed his parents to the ballroom, his eyes searching above the crowd for the child they came to greet._

....

In a few quick movements, and a strength he did not know he possessed, he caught that person's neck. It was even stranger when they did not push him off. Whom has Melkor sent this time to him? Some weak orc with a dozen of injuries?

Maedhros cared not, he was unable to keep both hands on that neck, so he pushed his right forearm down on it, and in his left palm he kept their hands pinned above their head.

...

_He did not expect Anairë to put the child in his arms. But the boy, Findekáno they called him, seemed to be very amused by this new company. In just a few seconds Maedhros's hair was already I'm his little hands, fingers trying to reach grey ribbons tied to the strands._

_And then the child pulled._

_He should have known, he had two brothers at that time already. But, unlike Celegorm, this little boy did not laugh at Maedhros' yelp. He let go of it and stared at Maedhros with icy blue eyes. The eyes that pierced his soul through. When Anairë tried to take the child from him to pass it to Nerdanel, Fingon caught his hair again. His eyes became glassy and a quiet sob left his lips._

_Maedhros smiled at him awkwardly, at loss with what to do. But a quiet voice in his head told him, he would give everything to never hear that child cry again. It was much to heartbreaking, even if it shouldn't be._

_If he only could, he would keep this child from all harm._

...

The struggles of the person underneath him grew weaker with every moment. But he did not let go. He let all of the anger he had left, all grief out as he pushed down, on the neck he was keeping under his forearm.

The hands he was pinning in his left hand broke free at last, and they clutched to his right wrist, altough weakly, to pull it away.

Only then did he notice something was wrong. Those hands were too soft to be of an orc, too gentle to be Mairon's. The moon was shining, reflecting itself in dark hair. Which was lying on a pillow. On a bed. His own bed. In his own room. The darkness, Thangorodrim, Mairon, the orcs, they were no longer real.

However, the person underneath him was still there, and their eyes were closing, that icy blue eyes he mourned for, the icy blue eyes he loved. And then they were closed, the struggling ended, but Maedhros could do nothing but watch his hand, pushing dow on that neck.

It took him a few painfully long seconds to pull away. Even longer to take one of the limp wrists and look for a heartbeat.

He found it.

It was useless, in the exact same time he heard a cough. One, two, three of them. The no-longer-limp wrist left his hand and went to the released neck.

"Finno-" Maedhros tried to speak, but stopped. What could he say? "I did not know... I thought you were-"

"It's-" Fingon coughed again. "It is alright. My fault, I thought you were awake."

Maedhros tried to move away, he had to, he had to catch some fresh air, he needed to understand. But Fingon caught his hand. "Stay."

"Stay?" Maedhros asked in disbelief. "How much does it actually take to have you finally leave?"

Fingon sat up. "Do you want me to?"

"I want you to be safe!" Maedhros snapped. His hands were shaking. "I need you to be safe." He was shaking.

"I am alright."

"I can not go through it again, I can not watch you die again." He hid his face in his palm. "I can't, not again."

"Again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this thing took me like an eternity to write. in my defens i had to rewrite it three times, then write it in my native language, then translate it to english and then go through it far too many times before i decided it was fine. the translating thing probably explains why some of the sentences may sound unnatural, i'm sorry. And if there is a paragraph in a different language, it is a consequence of that as well.  
> But this chapter is longer, and i'm kind of proud of that fact.
> 
> anyway, i hope you'll like it.
> 
> (i also have had a longer version of the author's notes, then realized it is just my unnecessarry rambling. and even this part is not relevant, soo)
> 
> ANYWAY, have a good day wherever you are, keep safe and remember that You're an amazing and absolutely stunning piece of sunshine.
> 
> (have you noticed that the title is a quote from 'Winnie the Pooh'?)

\- 1st century, first age -

Fingon has never been more betrayed by fate itself. The fate which made them leave Valinor. The fate which had them go through the ice. The fate because of which they have lost so many. The fate which allowed him to sneak right into Morgoth's door. The fate which laughed at him as he let the arrow pierce the air. The fate which had him cut his beloved's hand. The fate which let him save him. The fate and the Valar who let them do all of that.

_(The fate and their own choices, but no one here would ever want to admit that.)_

The fate which let his beloved lay still on the bed.

In the air there was smell of blood and of sickness. Or maybe it was just in Fingon's mind, his imagination, after the long hours, days, surrounded by it. It's not as if he could tell anymore.

He was sure he had no tears left to cry, and the fact that he has not slept ever since the Thangorodrim did not help at all, so his eyes were dry as he stared across the room, at the empty wall. The reason of all of this was right next to him. That unmoving body, and a shallow breath, almost impossible to hear even when the room was silent.

Fingon would not look at the body.

The healers were not in the room anymore. Fingon still remembered their words. They were only whispers he was not supposed to hear - they do not know how long Maedhros has left if he does not get better anytime soon.

Fingolfin was standing in that same room some time ago. He said something about Maglor and the other Feanorians, about them wanting to see their brother, their rightful king. He said something about people not letting them in.

Fingon cared little about all of it, everything he could think about was this weird and awful feeling he felt in his heart, the whispers of the healers... and it was still better than the other option. Than looking at him, at Maedhros, imagining everything that probably happened in Thangorodrim, looking at the scars, looking at his emaciated cheeks, at the bones visible under a thin layer of skin, at his _hand_ -

No. Fingon could not think about that. To make himself stop he started humming a melody. He must have sounded like a madman, but it was the one his mother sang to him, the one he sang to his niece. The one he sang to his own siblings. He remembers singing it to _Argon_. Perhaps he hummed it once when Maedhros was around, when everything was good, when they were safe, when Maedhros was safe, and he was whole, and not at the death's door-

The door opened quietly. Fingon did not stop starring at the wall.

Someone was coming towards him. It was his sister. Aredhel, the strongest one of them all, the one so often forgotten by him. When he would argue with his father or the older one of his brothers- his only brother now- she was there for them. And he realized it only when he truly saw her face, as the sun rose up slowly, and they were not the whole four siblings anymore. He doesn't know if they ever will be again.

Aredhel. Of course it was her. He would recognize the sound of her steps anytime.

She took a deep breath and kneeled next to the chair he was sitting on.

"We are worried about you," she started.

"I am worried about him."

"There is nothing you can do."

"I have heard that many times before." The tone of Fingon's voice was emotionless, it was dead. It made his own ears hurt. "I have heard that before I came after Itarillë, I have heard that before I went after him. I have heard that many times through my life."

In the corner of his eye he saw her nod. "So you must hate that it is the first time it is true."

"I despise it," Fingon said. "Or at least I would if I could still feel anything."

"You're a liar. You would not stay here if you could not feel anything."

He kept silent.

"Father wants you to eat something. Should I tell him you will do it now?"

"No," he stated. "I still do not think I can."

"Alright," Aredhel said. "Stay strong, brother. I cannot be the only one." She stood up and headed back to the door.

"Thank you," Fingon whispered, but he was sure she could hear it.

_______________________________________

In the night, when it was dark again, (the same darkness was there on the ice, it was there when they watched the ships burn, burning all of their hopes with themselves) Fingon was struggling to keep himself awake.

He held his head on his palms and stared again, at the floor this time. And then a silent, hoarse voice cut through the silence.

"Finno."

Fingon was sure he must have heard wrong. He turned his head slowly, in fear that it was just his imagination-

The eyes. The same, familiar eyes looking right at him.

The silence was disturbed again, and Maedhros' body shook with every cough.

But Fingon must have been so very wrong thinking he had no tears left, for now they were once again clouding his vision.

Unbelieving, Fingon caught his hand (his left hand, because his right one-) and stared, hoping that the image will not pass away. It did not. "Maitimo," his voice was shaking. "I need to call for healers." he stood up, and his legs almost gave out beneath him.

Maedhros shook his head weakly. "Stay," he barely said. "Are you real?"

Fingon smiled. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he was there, his Russandol was there, and if not anything else, he will not die on him with their last memory being their parting in Valinor. "I am. Still, I need to call for them."

Maedhros frowned a little. "H-he did not make you mention healers before. That's a clever detail."

Fingon stared at him in worry. "Shh, don't speak. Rest, I will come back soon."

_______________________________________

____________

_______________________________________

\- 14th century, years of the trees -

The first time Maedhros and Fingon talked happened incredibly late, many years into the latter's life. And it has not been entirely pleasant meeting, nor has it been expected one.

It was a warm, pleasant night. The trees which surrounded Maedhros would be an incredible sight for those who did not ever have a chance to see the light, yet for him it has been usual sight, almost not appreciated at all.

Walks through the woods were close to a habit for Maedhros, an escape from the crowd of people which he called 'his family'. Still, he did not notice that the forest changed its look, suggesting that the home he left became more distant with every step he took.

He did not notice the tiny light shining though the trees, he missed the silent voices echoing around him. Only when they grew louder they earned his attention. Still, he did not stop, though the next steps he took carefully, not to be noticed himself by those who has been singing.

Soon he could make out the golden haired heads among the leaves, changing their places in a dance foreign to him. He stood in the place mesmerized and stared. He truly must have gone away quite far, to reach the forest closer to Vanyar than Noldor.

All of sudden the music changed its rhythm, the rich harmony replaced by a single voice. And then another. And another. The dancing elves swiftly went through their lines and gave place for another to sing their own. Until the time came for an elf quite different from them - not very tall, dark haired boy, who's face seemed too terribly familiar.

And then it stopped, the music, the dancing. Silence fell around them, but just within a few seconds the trees carried on the melody, and it felt just as if the song was coming from everywhere - all directions at once. As if the leaves hummed it gently, as if every tree would repeat it to another. Would they reach the town? Would they reach the shore?

Maedhros went on, taking in whispers of the conversations between the Vanyar. It did cause him to wonder, if the trees carried on the whispers as well. He was still a fair amount of distance from the other elves.

He saw something move in a corner of his eye, and so he turned away to see what it was. That dark haired elf, clearly trying to pass by him unnoticed. Trying, and failing miserably.

Maedhros did not pay any mind to the Vanyar anymore, instead following the boy.

"Findekáno," he spoke eventually, when no more than an arm's reach was left between them.

The boy turned around, startled slightly. He looked up to see who it was, and looked even higher to finally find Maedhros's face. "You," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk."

Fingon's eyebrows bent down in confusion for a few seconds to long, until he seemed to understand the sentence. "Alright." He turned his back on Maedhros and kept walking.

Maedhros's hand on his shoulders stopped him, and though it did not seem possible before, even more confusion showed in his eyes when they locked with Maedhros' for the second time.

"Where are you going?" Maedhros asked.

"You're not my father."

"Obviously."

Now Fingon squinted his eyes at Maedhros. The latter let out a sigh and let his hand fall from the boy's shoulder. Maedhros spoke again. "You are drunk."

"I am not."

"You do not seem to think straight. And well, your family's house is the other way."

"What if I am not coming home tonight?"

"Are you not?"

Fingon opened his mouth, but didn't seem to think of a fitting response to the question.

"Did your father not tell you not to drink before you are of age?"

"I did not drink anything. And I almost am of age," Fingon protested. "But it's just you and *your* father's thing to pretend that you know everything better than everyone. You arrogant and egoistic-"

"Excuse me?" Fingon was smiling kindly when he spoke those insults, and Maedhros could feel anger burning up inside of him. Was that kid not aware what was he saying, to whom?

Fingon stared at him, processing Maedhros' reaction. The smile fell, and he seemed almost ashamed of himself. "At least *that's* what my father says," he said.

Maedhros let his shoulders fall. What more did his uncle tell his cousin about him? "Well, it's not like I have not heard worse about you from mine."

"Yours?"

"My father."

"Oh," Fingon looked down.

"Come," Maedhros said heading for his uncle's house, probing Fingon to start walking as well.

They walked in silence, even the song of the Vanyar in the trees could not be heard anymore. But even if everything around them was as beautiful as before, Maedhros caught himself as his eyes left them to stare at his cousin instead, time and time again.

"Nelyafinwë," Fingon said, so he forced himself to look away. "Are you and your family truly the way my father says?"

"I know not what else your father tells you about us."

"That you hate us."

Maedhros stopped at the sentence. He watched as Fingon went on, without noticing his pause. After a sew momemts he caught up with his younger cousin.

"I do not hold any hate towards you," he spoke eventually.

Fingon hummed but otherwise stayed quiet.

'I've never had' Maedhros thought.

"Can we stop?" Fingon asked some time later. "I do not feel very good."

"We are almost there."

"We are?"

"There is a light coming from your house already."

"I know," Fingon said. "You look very well in it."

Maedhros would deny blushing at that moment, it would not change the truth. "I am rather glad you will not remember this tomorrow."

_______________________________________

Maedhros was in no rush as he left his teacher's house. In the end the exams he was getting ready to were one of the last ones, and all that was left was not even half as hard. He could afford to spend some time for himself.

The house was almost right in the middle of the town. It was rather humble when compared to other buildings in Tirion, or at least the ones Maedhros grew up in or visited with his family. The main door of the house led to the town's market, but standing there one could not see it. The street was narrow, so the view was hidden by the other houses.

Maedhros intended to walk back through the market itself, though it would not be seen well in other other people's eyes. Going through the market when being of lower title than Maedhros was unusual, of a higher title it was practically unheard of, but Maedhros himself took special liking in watching all the things made by other elves. Their creations oftentimes were very beautiful, and almost always not appreciated. In the eyes of Maedhros' father, as well as of other high ranked ones, the only true art was the one made by renowned artist, made specially for them. He could not agree.

With that thought he stepped out of the door, to see someone stand right in front of him on the street.

"Hello," the person said. Their face was mostly hidden by a scarf made of plain, but rich fabric in something between grey and green. It matched the rest of the robes. Above the scarf the person's eyes were peaking at him, this familiar greyish blue, their slightly curly hair was dark. "Nelyafinwë."

Maedhros felt his eyebrows bent down in a frown. The person did not bow before him, neither did they spoke to him in a manner that is expected of others. But the voice was just familiar as the eyes, which shone brightly in the light.

Maedhros' doubts dissapeared as the person brought the fabric from their face down.

"Findekáno," he answered. "What brings you here?"

"I feel as we need to talk."

"We can talk." Maedhros moved forward in the market's direction.

Fingon followed him, putting the fabric back on. "Do we need to go that way?"

"Yes we do."

Even when they reached the market Fingon did not seem to intend to say anything. So Maedhros spoke. "I see, once again you are not where you were supposed to be."

"Well, I don't know how glad your father would be hearing that the market is a stop on your way home."

Maedhros stopped to look at him. "Do you threaten me? Or are you just one of the prejudiced almost royalties?"

Fingon gave out a scoff and moved away from him. "I am just one of those who would avoid being heard by the ones they do not want to know."

It took a second for Maedhros to realize he was heading for the stall full of wooden figures, with little horses, smaller copies of Teleri's ships, as well as many other shapes. None of them could be bigger than a cubit.

"Sneaking out again," he could hear the elf selling them say. "With some company. Quite surprising." Something in her eyes was warm and welcoming as she looked at Fingon, though Maedhros could see she was suspicious as she looked at him.

"You know me," Fingon said and, after taking out a few golden coins, he pointed at a nice little wooden house. The maiden took the coins and gave the figure to Fingon, still smiling at him kindly. He packed it into a bag hidden underneath his coat.

He waved his hand at her in a goodbye, and taking Maedhros by hand, went away in quick pace.

"Perhaps I was mistaken," Maedhros admitted as they were out of the crowd. "Still it seems to me a little generous price for a toy."

"Well you have not seen the joy those bring to my brother." Maedhros saw Fingon smile. "Yet it is not what I wished to talk about. I wished to talk about last night."

Maedhros chuckled. "I did not think you would remember,"

"And I came to ask you not to tell anyone." Fingon stopped in front of him, caught Maedhros' arms in his hands and looked into his eyes.

It was strange how well it worked, and how convinced Maedhros was because of it. "I will not," he said. "It is not even as I could sell you out to your father."

"You could tell it yours, or anyone of your family. And then the rumors spread quickly," Fingon noticed. "So do you promise? Not to tell anyone?"

It would not be a promise that could not be broken, Maedhros thought. "I do," he said still. "I promise I will not tell anyone without your approval."

"Of anything that happened last night?"

"Anything."

Fingon let go of him, clearly satisfied. "Alright." He started walking again. "So yes, you have been mistaken, unfortunately so was I. And I have not apologized to you properly yet."

Maedhros shook his head. "There is no need."

"It would mean that it ate on me for all last night and this morning for no use. So do not say that. I apologize, if not for saying what was solely my father's word, then for believing it blindly. I know you not, and it is not fair for me to judge."

Maedhros hummed. "Then maybe I should apologize for calling you almost a royalty. Or prejudiced."

Fingon laughed. "But you were right in both of those statements."

"Was I?"

"I am now eighth in line, with your last sibling's birth I shall be ninth. In an undying land it is little honor. And to be prejudiced I have proven to you last night."

"Your easiness in talking about your faults is surprising. Though I would not agree with you."

"You do not have to."

Maedhros nodded. "Is it true, did your father truly say that?"

Fingon winced. "Do not fault him. He is still very fond of you."

Maedhros' eyebrows rose in surprise. "Your father."

"He might also hold your accomplishments way higher than he ever did mine," Fingon's voice was much more quiet, as if he did not want Maedhros to hear.

This kid. It was of the most dangerous kind there was. The one who held your heart in their palm, who stole it without you even noticing. And dangerously it brought out something in Maedhros. It made him soft.

"Well, I could help you if you ever need it," he offered. "Unless you do not wish to spend even a second longer than you need with that arrogant, egoistic-" he did not finish.

Fingon looked at him. They were walking in quick pace, so they already were where at the point the road to their houses started. "I shall think about it," he said, and Maedhros could swear he heard a smile in his voice.

They spoke of light matters after that, up to the point where Fingon wanted to part with him to head for his family's house.

"I could walk you there," Maedhros offered. "But there is one more question on my mind. Would your parents not notice you gone?"

"Well," Fingon said. "Only if you insist. There surely must have. Usually I would have lessons at the same teacher's as you, hence I knew where to find you. Seeing my state this morning they let me stay. I did not. I will most likely have the talk."

"I insist," Maedhros said.

"Then we should take different route, the one on which you would not be seen," Fingon stated. "My mother will be angry with me when I come back.And I shall have you know, I did not intend to drink anything. The Vanyar drinks are confusing, I asked for appropriate one, I must have drank from the wrong glass."

"So, Vanyar culture then?"

Fingon frowned, and took a moment to think about it. "I find it quite interesting. It is not to say I do not find Noldors interesting, yet they are very different at some points."

"Aside from what I found in my books I know little of it," Maedhros admitted.

"It is more clean. More free maybe. Free from the things that have a hold of you. It seems to aim in higher purposes. Much closer to Valar for sure. Take dance for example, for a Noldo it is sometimes more to attract someone, for a Vanya it is solely a way of expressing oneself, sometimes even showing gratitude for Varda herself."

"Well, I have seen you dance there." Maedhros said. It might have been not entirely honest, he was not sure then who it was.

Fingon looked at him, the frown still on his face. "What do you mean by that?"

"It raises a certain question," the taller elf said. "Did you do it for Noldor purposes or the ones of the Vanyar?"

Fingon revealed his face again and smiled a him. "As I did it among the Vanyar, I would imagine it was more similar to theirs."

_______________________________________

The next time they saw each other happened in a library. This time they talked about old books and their own opinions on them. Maedhros would never forget how Fingon's eyes lightened up as he said something what surprised him, yet convinced all the same.

"You know," Fingon said then. "We could truly meet someday. Careful as we should be, I would appreciate it."

"I think we should," Maedhros agreed with a smile.

Still they did not see each other until the birth of their third cousin in Finarfin's line.

________________________________________

The ceremony went on well, and it did not really differ from any other ones, except for being held in Finarfin's house. The child which birth was celebrated was a boy, named by its father 'Ambaràto', by its mother 'Aikanáro'. Many years later he would be called 'Aegnor'.

Maedhros did not happen to be ther by a coincidence, it was not his parents' plan either. He convinced his mother he should go, and so he did, dragging Maglor along not to rose any suspicions. And maybe, just maybe, it was all because of a certain younger, dark haired elf.

Golden ribbons made it easy for Maedhros to find Fingon in the crowd. He left Maglor and walked up to the elf.

"Tenth," he spoke aloud.

He stood aside from the crowd as soon as he saw Maedhros and went on to leave the room, and moved his head towards the door so Maedhros would follow him. Fortunately no one noticed them as they entered the empty hall. They hid after a two or three corners.

"Tenth?" He asked.

"In line." Maedhros explained. "Tenth in line you shall be."

Fingon laughed. "So you agree with me?"

"I still do not. As you are in Finwë's line, I shall consider you a royalty."

Fingon raised one eyebrow at him. "Keep that in mind if the throne is ever yours. I doubt your father would."

"You should watch your mouth." Maedhros truly had a hard time trying to keep himself from smiling.

"You can deny it all you want, but it is very much in doubt if your father keeps any fondness of my family. Can you say he does?"

And if a small smile escaped to appear on his lips before, it fell now. "We would be there in the ballroom with everyone if he did," he admitted quietly. "Do you hold it against me even now?"

"I do not. I never did."

Silence fell, until Fingon cleared his throat. "So," he said. "Twins then? Or is it just your parents planning for another child?"

"Twins," Maedhros said. "At least that's what my mother says. Yet if anyone is to know, it is her."

"Six siblings, huh? And I think it is hard with one."

"Well, the truth-" Maedhros was stopped by a distant sound of doors opening, followed with footsteps. He took a hold of Fingon's collar and pulled him with himself as he hid behind a wide statue. They should be safe there, the hall was rather dark.

Listening to the steps pass he realized he has still been pinning Fingon to the uneven back of the statue. But Fingon made no move to free himself as long as the footsteps could be heard.

The person walking through the hall stopped not too far from them.

"Findekáno?" They heard Fingolfin's voice. "Finno?"

Maedhros let go of his collar and took a careful step back. He peaked behind the statue and moved his hand to gesture Fingon to go. Fingon did not. His father want away eventually, and only then both of them could truly breathe again.

"You could have gone to him," Maedhros whispered. "He stood with his back on us. He would not know where you came from."

"I have not yet finished talking with you."

_______________________________________

Since then they started meeting regularly. Every time they would did they would plan when to see each other again. And so the time passed quickly.

Soon it was Fingon's coming of age celebration.

"So," Maglor once said to his older brother. "Who is it you are seeing?"

Maedhros has been picking what to wear for the occasion, but the question made him stop. "What?"

"You clearly are seeing someone," Maglor said. "You come back home later, you drag me with you to some celebrations in the part of family not liked by our father, you dissappear there for almost an entire evening, and now you spend more on choosing what to wear than I have ever seen you. So, the question is, who is she?"

There must have been something in Maedhros' expression that changed Maglor's thought.

He opened his eyes wide. "So it is 'him'? You know, our father would not approve. A firstborn without a child, I don't see him buy it."

"I am not seeing anyone," Maedhros murmured.

"You shall not fool me," Maglor continued, his tone playful.

Maedhros sighed. "I might have a friend. We spend good time together, we enjoy our talks. There is nothing more." and should never be (unfortunately) "We can talk about it later. For example, the time when you finally start acting mature - that would be great, do you not agree?"

"Whatever you say, brother dearest."

______________________________________

It was the last ceremony held in the palace by Fingolfin or Finarfin and their families. Maedhros would later try to understand why they changed it for their own houses.

Maybe it was just his own father who kept everything in Finwë's palace, just to avoid his half-brother walking around his house?

Nevertheless, the halls were decorated in similar manner as when celebrated was Fingon's birth. Only the shade of blue was a little darker and less lively, and compared to then there was more of it than the gold. Maedhros could not help but think that it was a sigh that Fingon's parents wished for him to embrace the Noldorin part more than the Vanyarin one. He would later be proved right, and it disturbed him, as they have come across the subject of the Vanyar many times, and every one of them Fingon would light up. Maedhros would talk about it with him later, and he would be sad to realize that Fingon, at least for the public eye, will indeed abandon his fascination, as it was his parent's wish.

(And maybe, just maybe, later he would ask Fingon to take him with when he sneaked out to another one of Vanyar festivities, just to make sure Fingon would not lose it.)

The stairs leading up to the ballroom were crowded with people, and this time he could feel Maglor's eyes on him ever since they stepped onto them. It was rather fortunate that looking at and brief talk with Fingon would not be too suspicious, if he was the reason for the whole event.

And Maglor must have lost his interest in investigating his older brother, as his attention seemed to be captured by the music played in the other end of the room.

And, in its time, Fingon appeared at the top of the stairs. Accompanied by his mother and his grandfather. His smile was too wide, suggesting how uncomfortable he was, in his robes, in this position. Still he walked down gracefully, and Maedhros stared at him during every second of it.

Then came the another part of that day. Ladies.

Coming of age was a whole other excuse for having your child meet as many of those as possible. Obviously, to get married, produce a heir or a few. That's what his grandfather told Maedhros once. He said it much more jokingly, yet he could not help but find it true.

Yet that part was easy. The harder one was right in front of him.

Maedhros found himself pained by the sight of Fingon talking and dancing with those elf maids. And suddenly it felt so wrong. It could not pain him, for it would mean-

"Hello," someone said to him, interrupting his thoughts. He looked down to see a child, holding his robe in their small hand. The boy, whose eyes were the same as Fingon's, only his hair darker and entirely straight.

"Hello, Turukáno," he said, bowing his head a little.

The child looked at him in awe. "You know my name," he said. "Are you Nelyafinwë?"

"I am."

"Would you tell me then? Why your name ends with Finwë but those of me and my brother do not?"

Maedhros caught himself off-guard. "Honestly, I have not given it very much thought," he said.

In a second Fingolfin appeared just behind his son. He must have heard the question, must have heard the answer. "Nelyafinwë," he bowed his head. "Forgive us," he continued. "Turno is a very curious child, and asks some questions which are not supposed to be asked." He kept his younger son in an arm's reach. "How have you been? It has been years since we have had an opportunity to talk."

Maedhros did not expect that. He recovered soon enough. "I have been well, and I hope it has been good for your family as well."

"In fact it has, thank you."

Maedhros cleared his throat. "So Findekáno is of age now."

Fingolfin smiled. "Yes, he is. Hard to think of it as I can still see the times when he still was but a baby."

Maedhros decided to push it a little further. "And ladies seem to take a great liking to him."

"Ah, if only he showed the same towards one of those," his uncle complained. "Yet it is his life, and if he shall not yet find the same happiness in having a family as I did when I was barely older than him, we will wait as long as he needs."

And just a little further. "And if he shall never find it in having a wife and children?"

"That is a strange question to ask. There is no reason to assume that," Fingolfin stated. "But whatever will truly bring him happiness, as long as it is appropriate, it shall have my blessing. But," he said, his tone light again. "I have heard your studies are coming to an end."

"Indeed they are."

They spoke for a short time, for Fingolfin had more guests to talk with.

The celebration continued for much longer, and at some point everyone's attention was on Maglor. He got into the corner where the musicians were, and started playing melodies and songs full of rich and very beautiful harmonies.

It gave Fingon opportunity to stand next to Maedhros unnoticed.

"I am literally dying," was the first thing he said.

Maedhros laughed. "Ah, how sweet it is that I can barely remember wearing similar creations."

"I cannot breathe."

"But you look well," he said.

"Thank you."

'it embraces your waist magnificently' Maedhros did not say. 'and matches your eyes perfectly, have they told you that before?' "So how was it that far?" He asked instead.

Fingon looked around to see if anyone was looking. "Terrible," he admitted. "Only my dance with Elenwë did not seem to be the most awful and stiff expeience of my life. Have I told you that Vanyar robes for dance are much more comfortable?"

"You have not, though I could guess," Maedhros said. "So, Elenwë?"

"The joy of my life." He laughed. "A Vanya I have met a long time ago."

Oh. _oh._

 _('but your father just said that you do not seem to return their affections' he thought, a voice in his head full of desperate accusation.)_ Maedhros swallowed hard. "Well, you might want to find her, the night is young yet."

Fingon looked at him in a weird way. "I have just got there."

"Yes, but Maglor will take a break soon. And he starts to get suspicious."

Fingon's eyes tried to find Maedhros' brother. It was of no use, the crowd kept him out of his sight. With visible reluctance he went away. Maedhros did not see him look back, did not see him bite his lip before disappearing in the crowd.

What a shame.

______________________________________

As the celebration came to an end Maedhros sent Maglor home. He himself stayed, watching the crowd getting smaller and smaller with time. Fingon was still there, still accompynied by the more desperate girls, and some boys as well, altough those were mostly drunk, some of them looking at Fingon in a way that was, if he had to be entirely honest, concerning at least. Maedhros could see he was was tired, and looking towards the last bottle of wine more often with every story he had to hear.

At some point he must have noticed Maedhros standing at the other end of the room. He excused himself, and Maedhros could swear it was something like 'I need some fresh air'. He used the thing himself when the people would bother him too much at his own coming of age. He would know.

Their eyes met again when Fingon passed right by him. "Come with me?" Maedhros heard him say.

When they reached the balcony, the one on the back of the palace, Fingon tried to loosen some of the ties in his robes - he achieved nothing. He settled for keeping at least the collar a bit looser with both of his hands. "I was not kidding," he said. "This is torture."

"I believe," Maedhros said, reaching for something hidden under his own coat. He cleared his throat. "I know that I am a bit too late, as it is technically another day already, but I hope you still will like it." He put his hand forward and opened the palm.

Lying on it there was a branch of a tree, made of something similar to gold, yet shining more uniquely, in size not bigger than a finger of a small child. Still it was full of detail. The leaves suggested it to be of the woods closer to the Valar, and the flowers on it were barely opened, suggesting the time of the year. 

Fingon looked down on it, his eyes wide. 

"That''s how the trees looked like when you called me an arrogant egoist." He heard Fingon laugh. "I made it myself, when my father was not around. I personally think it is rather pretty." Maedhros brought it higher and placed it in his dark hair. Then he let other strands of hair fall over it. "And easy enough to hide." 

Even though Fingon was clearly still in awe, his eyes saddened. "It means very much to me," he said. "Thank you."

Maedhros turned to the side, looking up at the sky. "So where is your beloved? I could not find her lately."

"Pardon?" He could practically hear Fingon's frown. "Who do you mean by that?" 

In a moment Fingon seemed to realize what it was. "Elenwë?" He laughed. "I must have said it wrong. She is the light of my life, my dear friend, but if any of us have felt anything more for the other it must have been ages ago, when we were still children," he explained. "Though my father would certainly be glad if what you said was true."

"Oh." Was it better? It felt better, but could it mean that maybe- no. He would not go there. But if Fingon cared little for the girls- well, it wasn't as if those boys got more of his attention but still- who would know? Did Maedhros truly want to know, for he has been pushing that line too many times that day, and he would not-

Fingon smiled as they both looked up to stare at the stars. "Come," he said. "It is late and we are both tired. We will meet each other again soon." 

So Maedhros will wait, and see, and hope that he will not break anything. 

For if he does, he does not want to know how much could go to ruin with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo, maedhros might be little less fond of fingon now than in the first chapter, but fingon was a baby then soo, he was cheating.
> 
> please leave a comment, (i mean only if You want, but I would really appreciate it :) )
> 
> the next chapter should be up soon (this time i will try to update after a week, not after five months-) and that's it.  
> i shall link my tumblr here if i actually start one anytime soon ...


End file.
